


Meadowlark

by quizasvivamos



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Merman Blaine, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:07:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6903361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quizasvivamos/pseuds/quizasvivamos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy had left his heart behind. And Blaine held it in his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meadowlark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riverance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverance/gifts).



> This one shot was inspired by a gorgeous and super imaginative illustration by my lovely muse, riverance.

_ Sploosh. _

A foreign object narrowly missed Blaine’s head, and he whirled around, the cerulean waters swirling, bubbling and foaming around him. He caught sight of the thing—what was clearly a stone—, and watched it sink down into the dark depths below. Seconds later, another small rock broke the surface of the water a few feet away and plummeted into the darkness, a thin trail of bubbles in its wake. 

Wondering why it seemed to be raining debris, with the kick of his feet, Blaine propelled himself upward until the top of his head rose just above the surface of the swiftly swelling waters. His matted, wild curls clung to his forehead and neck, and he blinked when the dry air hit his face, his vision adjusting as the world above came into focus.  

Clear skies made the half moon appear even more luminous than usual, even for a warm summer night, and Blaine peered out across the softly glowing, glittering waves in hopes of catching a glimpse of the culprit. He turned against the sea’s current until he was facing the sandy shore off in the distance where a lone figure stood, a boy who was in such stark contrast to the night encircling him. His stone-throwing antics had ceased, and he was now turned away with his hands in the pockets of his shorts and back to the ocean. Blaine stared with a surging curiosity as he took in the pale, ethereal silhouette, almost ghostly, yet undeniably solid, the shape of his body slim, yet statuesque.

Enraptured, Blaine lingered for a few moments, bobbing in place, gently buoyed by the waves, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy’s face. For a brief moment, the boy turned, revealing only his profile, but he soon turned away again and ambled up the beach until he eventually disappeared from view.

That evening, Blaine couldn’t shake the mysterious land-dwelling boy from his thoughts, the paradox that looked both stately and strong and graceful and frail.

For days, the boy haunted his thoughts, invading his head when he least expected. The intrusions drove Blaine to revisit the area of the encounter each night until the boy finally showed again.

Blaine wasn’t surprised to find him sitting alone beneath the waxing moon like an actor soaking in the spotlight, the beach his stage, his audience of one still unknown. Again, Blaine watched with intrigue, his eyes just above the water and body concealed, not wanting to be seen for fear of frightening his visitor away. The boy had abandoned the activity of skipping stones and appeared weary. His head was bowed as he focused on the sand beneath him, a thin piece of wood in his hand, which he was using to etch something into the ground. Whether a drawing or words, Blaine could not tell.

The boy’s face was now visible, yet only partially. Blaine could make out the way his eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, though his eyes were hidden from view.

Blaine didn’t realize that he had been gradually drifting toward the shore, and he kicked his feet forward, attempting to still his body in the water and remain a safe distance away.

A soft humming sound drifted through the air, and a faint voice soon carried over the rolling tide. The boy was singing to himself, loud enough for Blaine to hear, but too quiet to make out the poetry of the music.

Blaine’s sudden movement must have startled the boy, who froze and snapped his head up, squinting as he gazed out over the water. But the boy saw nothing. And neither did Blaine, who was safely beneath the surf.

It was too close a call, and Blaine waited a significant stretch of time before daring to resurface. But when he finally poked his head up again, the boy was already shuffling back up the beach.

Blaine’s chest ached at the departure, and he was worried that he’d been the cause of the visit cut short, but he soon noticed that he wasn’t the only thing the boy had left behind. Among the shells and drift of dead seaweed the tide had beached, a small, flat, round object glistened in the moonlight like a beacon that guided Blaine toward the land.  

Bravely, cautiously Blaine made his way toward the water’s edge. It was risky to travel too far onto land, and he knew he could only survive out of the water for so long, so he was relieved when a wave swept over the sand and pulled the metallic object in toward him. He stretched his arm, reaching desperately toward it until he got a grasp on it, curling his webbed fingers around it and bringing it in against his chest.

Blaine lifted his hand toward the light to examine what he’d found. The abandoned possession was roughly the size of his palm and sat nestled comfortably in it. He realized that it wasn’t circular but had two rounded humps that curved down into a point. He’d seen this symbol before, often scribbled on notes he’d discovered that were carefully placed in glass bottles and sent out to sea, notes that often included stories of love lost or unrequited, letters that were never meant to reach those to whom they were addressed or anyone in particular.

The boy had left his heart behind. And Blaine held it in his hands.

As Blaine ran his fingers across its silver surface, he could feel thin ridges that curved and curled, almost like anemone, yet more exquisite and delicate-looking. As he rotated it, something on its back pricked Blaine’s finger, and he nearly dropped the object. Blaine tightened his grip on the heart when he got a proper hold on it again. Perhaps, although beautiful, it was not as delicate as it seemed.

Certainly the boy would miss it. Blaine somehow knew it was something important and he’d probably come looking for it once he realized it was gone, so he stowed it away, keeping it safe until he could return it.

His opportunity arrived soon enough; with the arrival of the full moon came the inevitable return of boy.

When Blaine reached the surface that evening, his heart leapt in his chest, picking up tempo when he was hit with the realization that the boy was facing the ocean, completely in his view. All features of his face were clearly defined, his bright, crystalline eyes open wide in wonder and cast toward the dark skies that held the fantasy of the stars and moon.

As the boy stood mesmerized by the infinite heavens laid out before him, he took a deep breath, his body seemingly filling with an unknown power. And when he let it out, Blaine was mesmerized by the voice that followed and the song that filled the air.

He’d never heard anything like it before and could not find words to compare or describe it, but it moved something in him, made him feel this indescribable ache and longing. Blaine felt like the song was raising him up, and he felt fuller, like the lyrics that left the boy’s mouth and wound themselves around him like a warm embrace were infused with life itself.

If the boy never sang for him again, then Blaine felt like he might never feel joy again, like his heart might even cease beating. He knew then that he wanted it always, he needed it.

But Blaine knew that he’d never hear it again, unless he could keep the boy by his side. Always and for eternity.

But he knew he was at an impasse: he couldn’t survive long above the water, and the boy couldn’t survive beneath it.

The foamy waves lapped against the shore, crashing harder than usual before breaking, and the tide was strong and rose steadily. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Blaine swam with the current, effortlessly drifting toward the beach. The song carried him forward, like a tether pulling him toward safety, but when he reached the large rocks that jutted out into the water, he stopped, concealing himself behind one.

In the following seconds, Blaine made a rash decision, one driven by desire and greed, and he felt like he’d lost his mind, had lost the capacity to form even a sliver of any rational thought. He knew what he wanted, and he was determined to get it.

Clasped in his hand was the metal heart, and when he opened it and held it up above the rocks to catch the moonlight just so, the boy blinked and turned his head toward it.

His eyes remained wide, his brow wrinkling a bit in confusion as he approached the shining object and began to recognize it as his lost brooch. The knee-high boots he wore weren’t suited for climbing across the rocks, made slippery by the sea that constantly beat against them, but his curiosity drew him onward, closer to the floating heart, like an unsuspecting fish to a lure.

Blaine watched with bated breath, impatiently awaiting the moment his desires would come to fruition.

The sound of a gasp and a loud splash as a body hit the water signalled that that exact moment had come.

The boy struggled, his arms flailing as he fought futilely against the current that pulled him under again and again until he no longer had the strength to keep himself afloat.

With one final gasp, his mouth filled with water, and he choked as his lungs grew heavy with the fluid, his limp body sinking like the rocks he’d once tossed into the perilous depths.

 

* * *

 

Kurt felt like he was drifting.

His body was strangely light, and when he took in his surroundings, he couldn’t tell up from down and couldn’t remember where he’d been or how he’d gotten there. He tried hard to remember, something, anything.

He’d been at the beach…he’d fallen into the water and lost consciousness.

Was he even alive?

Kurt’s vision was blurry, taking ample time to become focused it seemed. At first, he saw only dark shapes and undulating shapeless masses, but then two bright, honey-golden eyes appeared and met his. The face hovering before his came into view, one which belonged to another boy, who was peering at him in a way no one had ever looked at him before.  

“You…” Kurt uttered, his own voice sounding alien to him, “you saved me…?”

He gave no answer. Those golden eyes grew sad at the question and then looked away.

Suddenly, Kurt’s memory of the night returned like a tidal wave, the floating brooch, the rocks, losing his footing and falling into the water only to struggle hopelessly. Kurt had never been a strong swimmer. In fact, he avoided social situations and otherwise that involved pools and large bodies of water.

Large bodies of water…

He was underwater, still. Kurt knew in that moment that he’d never had a chance. The boy before him wasn’t a boy at all, but a creature, his body coated with scales beneath the mesh shirt that hugged his torso. He had webbed toes and fingers and long claws that looked strong enough to tear through flesh. He was a thing of storybook fantasy, something Kurt had once believed in. Nothing could shock him now.

“I...I’m...I didn’t make it…”

Blaine shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“But, then how am I -” Kurt looked down at his hands, suddenly realizing that his body was translucent, the light from above passing straight through his fingers. A feeble “Oh” escaped him.

“Your spirit remains bound to this earth, so here you will remain.” He hesitated briefly, his eyes fixed so intently on Kurt’s. “I'm Blaine. Your name…?”

“I am - I was - called Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

“And as so you shall be remembered.”

Kurt still couldn’t comprehend it fully. All the questions he’d had in life about religion became a chaotic jumble in his head, and it seemed he might never find the answers he’d sought.

“Why me? Why would I become a ghost? I - I had my doubts...but is there really no afterlife?”

“One can never really know. You were taken too soon and must have unfinished business.”

It was difficult to think about his life, all the potential he had and the dreams he was never able to realize and never would. Kurt had had dark thoughts, pondered whether or not it was worth the abuse given so heartlessly by his peers to continue living, but he knew he knew he was born for bigger things and never imagined he would meet such an untimely end. Kurt wanted to live.

“Broadway,” Kurt breathed. “After high school, I had my sights set on New York. I was going to make it...I was going to sing.”

Blaine’s heart began to race, and he licked his lips, his eyes becoming even more luminous.

“Then sing.”

Kurt was uncertain whether or not he could anymore, but he tested his vocal cords, singing out the opening lines of a song. His voice grew stronger, more determined and powerful as he gave voice to familiar words. Kurt stopped abruptly, overwhelmed and feeling like he could cry, if only.

“It’s your voice,” Blaine said, “It’s what kept you here. The world was meant to hear your song.”


End file.
